Shadow
by Musings of a Shaken Mind
Summary: Shadow: –noun. 1. A person who is the property of and wholly subject to another; a bond servant. 2. A person entirely under the domination of some influence or person. 3. A drudge: a housekeeping slave. AH; AU. BxE.
1. Prologue

**Um, yeah. So this was originally an original story, written for the lovely Saffiya Scarlett's christmas present. Unfortunately, being the Twi-hard that I am, I just had to change it to a Twilight fic. Meh. I hope it's not contagious...**

**So, here you go. I;ve gone over it, and I think I've got all of the names, but if anyone finds any that ren't supposed to be there, could you let me know? Thanks. Also: This is just the prologue, hence the shortness. Sorry. The other chapters are much longer, each one four or five pages on word. **

**I think that's everything. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: OME!! Smeyer gave me Twilight for Christmas!!! AREN'T YOU JEALOUS?!**

**Did any one actually believe that? Damn. Oh, well. I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS, ONLY THE CONCEPTS.**

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**S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

**Prologue.

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**_Would you like to hear my story? It's hardly pleasant, but—whose is? Maybe, one day, I'll even find the happy ending that I so desperately crave. Perhaps…_

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_"Please. Please," he whispers, "please, do not be afraid…I'm not going to hurt you. I would never…"

I choke at that; I cannot help myself. How can he promise me that? Everyone I know, everyone I have ever known has hurt me. How can he promise that this time will be any different?

"No…" I have to bite my lip sharply to stop the tears that are pooling in my eyes from falling. "Don't promise me anything."

"What do you have against promises?"

"You can't keep a promise like that… please, don't try."

"I have to. Can't you see that I…I care about you? Seeing you hurt would be… very hard. Intolerable. Please, just let me…" He trails off.

I am silent for a moment, trying to process his words. The fact that anyone cares that much is alien to me. It seems impossible. It _is_ impossible. And this boy… this man—he will leave, too, after he finds out the truth (and he will find out the truth). Is there any sense in getting my hopes up, only to have them destroyed? And if that is the case, then why does it feel so right to have his arms wrapped protectively around me?

"I can't… I'm sorry."

The pain is clear to me, shining in the broken expression that dominates his eyes. I want nothing more than to curl up against his chest and cry for everything that has ever gone wrong, like I did the first time we met, but he would think me disgusting and pathetic. Maybe he'd beat me, or worse, for that is what I have come to expect from men. I will not risk it.

Detaching myself from his protective grip on my waist, I step away. I speak again, quietly, in an attempt to hide the pain in my voice. "Sorry, Edward."

I hear him call my name as I run, but I choose not to listen…


	2. Ordinary

**So: I have a slight apology to make. To_ RazzleDazzle96_, I'm sorry. It said in your review that you hoped Bella wasn't abused in any way, shape or form. Unfortunately, the whole thing is already written, and it's pretty much intrinsic to the storyline. Although, if I do say so myself, it's not like other abuse-fics I've read. I know exactly what you mean though. It has totally been over-done... I do solemnly swear that, after this chapter, there isn't any more. (I hope) Thanks for the review though, anyways! :D  
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****S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

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****Chapter 1: Ordinary.**

_Ordinary:_

_1. Of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional: One novel is brilliant, the other is decidedly ordinary; an ordinary person.__  
2. Plain or undistinguished: ordinary clothes.__  
3. Somewhat inferior or below average; mediocre.__  
4. Customary; usual; normal: We plan to do the ordinary things this weekend.  
5. Chiefly South Midland and Southern U.S. common, vulgar, or disreputable._

It's hard to define ordinary. I looked it up once, out of sheer boredom. There were a lot of definitions, even in my battered pocket dictionary, for that one word. I could apply all of them to my life.

I was commonplace and unexceptional; plain and undistinguished; inferior; common and vulgar; and decidedly ordinary. There was nothing exceptionally beautiful about my plain brown eyes set in a pale, plain face, or the plain brown hair that was mostly cropped anyway, as was required by my job. There was nothing outstanding about my personality, or my friends (actually, I had no friends). My job was boring and monotonous, and I hated it with a passion. It was awful.

Not that slavery could ever really be counted as a job.

Sure, they could cover it up with sugar-coated titles like 'Shadow', but when it came down to it, I was a slave. I earned no money for my work; I was only allowed to live because of the family that owned me. It was their right to decide such things, and apparently, I had yet to outlive my usefulness. I imagined that it was only a matter of time, though. I had been with the family that I had served for most of my life.

My mother had been their Shadow, long before she fell pregnant with me. She had only been allowed to bear me after weeks and weeks of begging her Mistress, and that was only on the condition that I worked for them as soon as I was able.

I started cleaning when I was four years, three months and seventeen days old.

I never learned to read or write, though I took great pleasure in sneaking books from the library that belonged to the children, and looking at the pictures. They told the story. I grew up with these fairytales in my mind. Maybe one day, like the girl in my favourite story, a lady would come with a magic stick. She would wave it, and I would have a pretty dress like the Mistress. I'd go to the party and I'd dance and dance… and I'd find a handsome man with a gold crown on his head. I'd run away, but he'd find me and marry me, and we'd be happy…

When I was eight years old, my mother took ill. I was required to do most of her chores too, as well as my own. I would visit her whenever I could as she lay in her bed, shivering when it was hot and sweating when it was cold. She terrified me then, though I never let on. My mother's condition worsened steadily until she was unable to do anything. At that point, I officially took over as Shadow to the Family.

My mother died when I was just ten years old, and my heart was broken. She had been my one friend; the only solace in this city of dangerous people. I attended her funeral, though I did not cry until hours later, when I was alone in the room that I had shared with her since my birth. Before long, the Family tired of me. In fairness, it was highly unusual for a Shadow to be kept on for as long as I or my Mother had, but that did not make it any easier as I was thrown out, with only the clothes on my back and a threadbare blanket for warmth. They left me to fend for myself on the dangerous streets of the City. That was the hardest winter, though I spent two more winters there afterwards. I was hardier by then, more street-savvy.

I was on the brink of death, living on the streets throughout the summer and holed up in entrances to shops during the winter months, where it was a little warmer. But the cold was always still unbearable. They found me there. Actually, it was one of their children, but what difference does it make? They saved me, this new Family, and in return I offered to serve them. It was all I knew, after all. It made sense. They had saved my life; I was willing to serve them, and they had been looking for a new Shadow anyway. They were pleasant enough for the first few months, but then things changed on my thirteenth birthday. That was when I realised just why their old Shadow had run away.

My new Master—his name was something exotic that I try to forget. It still hurts to think about him—was never there for most of my working day. He would stumble in late at night, often half-drunk. There was nothing I could do about it, because I was just a Shadow. I just stayed silent and tried my best to camouflage myself against the classy cream wallpaper.

It hardly ever worked.

He would shout and rant and his round face would turn a fascinating shade of purple. In his hand would always be the last of a string of alcoholic drinks, half-finished. His senses would be classically blurred, and he would stumble as he attempted to walk in a straight line. It was my duty to help him, and I always did, doing my best to support him as he staggered up the stairs. I would leave him outside his chambers, and then I would make a quick exit, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire when the Mistress found out and started to shout and threaten things—and sometimes people—that got in her way. That was how it always went.

One night… one night it was different, though.

When Master came in that night, he was more drunk than usual. The expression on his face scared me, but he said nothing. I helped him upstairs, as I always did, but something was different. He did not stagger; he was just limp, transferring almost all of his weight onto me. With effort, I kept my mouth shut, to stop the Common profanities from escaping. The punishment for cursing in front of the Family was severe. I could not just leave him outside, as I usually did, to make his own way. He had consumed too much alcohol for that. With an effort, I forced open the door, supporting the Master inside.

And then, the door closed behind me, and the dead weight lifted from my arms. Instead, his piggy eyes stared at me, completely focussed. He stood between me and the door, and he reached behind him to pull the bolt across the door. That was when I realised exactly how much trouble I had just gotten myself in to.

I could not breathe, suddenly, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But not in the I-am-in-love, positive way… more like a what-the-hell-have-I-gotten-myself-into kind of way. My breathing was laboured as it finally occurred to me what he was trying to do. I was terrified. I had been warned since I was tiny, by my Mother, that the City was dangerous, full of prostitutes and rapists and thieves and murderers… but never before had I really come across someone who really meant me harm. They mostly ignored Shadows. We were too skinny, too dirty—they would never waste time on us.

He smirked condescendingly down at me, a glint in his cruel eyes, pushing me across the room. I landed heavily on the large, empty bed, my eyes wide as I stared at him in terror. In different circumstances, I might have noted that the bed was unnaturally soft and pleasant, but I could not think about it. My thoughts were entirely consumed by this monster. He opened his mouth, and poisonous words fell from it, filling the air with a threatening promise.

"Your job is to serve, Shadow. Now serve me."

What choice did I have? If I yelled or struggled, the Family would kill me. They would not care, even if I was raped. I had heard stories before, stories of Shadows raped by a member of their Families, for pleasure. It was expected. Shadows served. This was just another chore that they had to withstand. But it had never happened to me… not ever. And I had never thought that it would happen. I thought it was mere exaggeration… how wrong I was.

I try not to remember that night, but the pain is something I will never forget. The feel of his hot hands stroking my skin, too, is permanently burned in my memory.

It disgusted me. I was disgusted with myself. When, finally, he was snoring, I crept from his room, pulling the half-ripped shirt and old skirt from the floor to cover myself. I nearly made it to my room in the attic, before breaking down. I made it to the stairs, at least.

I cried for hours, that first night, feeling filthy. Feeling completely disgusted with myself, and wishing I was strong enough to kill him like the animal he was.

After that night, it was always the same. He said nothing when he came in, just grabbed me by my upper arm and forced me to follow him. He would order me to 'serve' him every night, and when it got too painful, when I cried out, he would abuse me. He always found new, creative ways to keep me in constant pain. After the first few weeks, I learnt that struggling was useless. It only intensified his sadistic pleasure. I submitted to him every night, and cried myself to sleep when I could escape. My life was hell. But that was the life of a Shadow, the life that I had been born into. The life that I was sure I would die during.

Day in, day out, life was exactly the same. I ran errands for Cook and Housekeeper, and sometimes even for the Mistress. I entertained the children and worked in the kitchens from time to time. It was I who was responsible for the washing, and the drying. I was kept on my feet from before dawn until long after midnight, with just a few minutes in between to snatch a bite or two to eat. I was lucky if I managed to find the odd scrap of bread in a day.

When I saw myself in the grand mirror in the hallway, the girl that stared back was not one I knew. She was small and too thin, her skin pale from lack of sunlight. Brown eyes were huge in her gaunt face, above prominent cheekbones. She was always smudged and dirty, her brown hair short and unkempt. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

That was what Cook referred to me as. Not my name, or even my title of Shadow. But 'Ugly'. These were barbs that stuck to me, ones that I remembered for the rest of my life.

After the abuse started, I was always covered in bruises and barely-healed wounds, though most of the injuries were inflicted on the inside. I was scarred, physically and emotionally, by that monster of a man. But there was no way to escape, no way out… what else could I do? I was confined to this life of misery forever.

I often woke in a cold sweat, screaming my mother's name. I needed her… I needed someone…

Years passed, though I could hardly count them. I knew the seasons, though. There were two in a year; the rain and the sun. I kept track of the time that way, a way that was very animalistic, now that I come to think of it. As I grew older, my duties became more intense—serving the oldest girls, mostly. There were two of them around my age, one slightly older, and the other slightly younger.

I hated them with a passion.

They were both sort of beautiful, in an attention-grabbing sort of way. Their blonde hair was fake though; dyed using bleach stolen from the kitchens. It was I who stole it. They wore far too much face-paint, lathering on bronze powder and black liquid that cam in a tube and they brushed onto their eyelashes. A red stick was applied in copious amounts to their thin lips, and pink powder to their cheeks.

Had they left off the paint, they would have been beautiful. As a result of it, they were never approached by suitors as they might have been otherwise. They had the most beautiful gowns in a multitude of colours, a new one every day. Many times, as I folded the dresses late at night, knowing that they would never be worn again, I wept. My own attire was merely rags by comparison. It was always tattered and dirty, though I tried my best to keep it clean and in one piece. Both of my outfits were black, though one was slightly higher-quality than the other, for Sundays. I had scuffed boots that were too small, and an ugly black cap that I was required to wear.

Standing next to them was my least favourite moment of the day.

But it was not jealousy of their appearances that made me hate them. Underneath the glitz and the glamorous clothes, they were the nastiest people I had ever met, Master notwithstanding. They were cruel to the servants, and particularly to me. They stole from the kitchens, and from their mother's chambers. They bullied their younger siblings, and lied about my abilities, hoping to get me into trouble.

The Mistress doted upon them—they had learnt all of their behaviours at her knee, and she was pleased by them.

They were the ones who really made my life a misery. The sisters and the Master.

One day the oldest of the sisters, whose name was Rosalie, caught me staring at the books on her bookshelf as I was cleaning her room. I heard about the incident for months afterward, even after my heavy punishment had stopped.

I was even scorned by the many servants, all of whom were paid. I was the only Shadow in the household. Naturally, I was looked down upon. For that is the way of the world.

I had always thought of my existence as entirely meaningless, and had assumed that it always would be so. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) for me, that belief was about to be turned entirely on its head…


	3. Unexpected

**Heey guys. :) How be y'all? Okay, so that was random. Whatever. Thanks for the reviews and shiz! They mean a lot, as I'm sure you know. **

**So, without further ado... chapter 2! (Ooh, that rhymed...)  
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****S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

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****Chapter 2: Unexpected**

_Unexpected:_

_Not expected; unforeseen; surprising: an unexpected pleasure; an unexpected development._

It was early summer when it came, all fancy white parchment and gold ribbons. Honestly, hardly anyone could afford parchment nowadays, what with there being no trees anywhere… everything was digital. It came through the letterbox, which had always just been for decoration. This person was rich. Seriously rich.

I found myself running a finger across the material, awed by the silky roughness of the surface. It was truly beautiful. But before I could open the letter, even to examine the words that I could not possibly read, it was snatched from my calloused hands by a pale, slim one. I looked up to see Tanya, the younger of the two sisters, watching me disapprovingly.

"Now, now, Shadow… shouldn't you be working, and not idling around?"

I lowered my gaze to the floor, the picture of obedience, though inside I was seething at being treated like a naughty child.

"Of course, Miss Tanya. My apologies."

I hurried quickly away, feeling her eyes piercing the back of my neck. I cringed once I was out of sight, around the corner, grateful to be away.

It wasn't until much later that I learnt what the parchment actually read. Two of the Assistant Cooks were gossiping about it as I dried the dishes after dinner.

A Prince's ball, apparently. No wonder it was on parchment then, if it was a royal document. All of the eligible girls in the city were invited. Briefly, I fantasised about going… but I was brought rapidly out of that particular dream as a wet saucepan clanked me over the head. I winced, but knew that I deserved it. It wasn't like that was the worst thing they could have done. I looked up to see Cook Banner standing over the three of up, grasping the pot menacingly.

"You are not kept to gossip and dream on the job. Back to work, all of you!"

The two Assistant Cooks turned to glare at me as soon as Banner had left. "Your fault, bitch."

I felt a stinging slap across my cheek. Once, I might have retaliated, or hit back… but they had worn me down, broken me. I merely bowed my head; hiding tears that threatened to escape, and went back to wiping the pots. Useless. That's all I was, useless. I hated my job, and I hated my life. I would do anything, anything to escape it… How I wished I could go to the dance, and forget my miserable existence for one night…

_Look at yourself. _The voice that often taunted me sounded again, inside my mind. It sometimes sounded like my mother, but sometimes more like Banner, or the Mistress. _Pathetic. How did you end up here? You'll never amount to anything. You'll be a slave your whole life. Broken, dirty, abused, trapped. Get out! While you still can… his can be your excuse. You're an eligible girl, aren't you? At a stretch, anyway… just do it. Leave. There's nothing for you here._

My sensible, rational side argued back. _If I leave now, they'll kill me. If they find me, I'll be tortured to death. I can't._

_You're ALREADY being tortured to death, stupid girl! How could death be any worse than this?_

I had no answer for that, and so I did not answer. I ignored the voice. Dreaming would do me no good. I would be stuck here forever. I could not imagine any other possibility.

The sisters were going to the ball, of course. I was required to stitch tiny details onto beautiful, antique dresses, powder wigs and prepare their face paint. Each had ridiculously high heels to wear, despite the fact that they were both already nearly six foot tall. They were to ride in the Family's best car, so I was told to scrub the thing from top to bottom, inside and out. There was a nasty red wine stain on one of the seats, which took me a whole day to remove. Not real wine, of course; grapes had died out, along with much else, in the past few hundred years. The new, synthetic stuff was far more potent, and apparently stained white faux-leather spectacularly.

I was kept even busier than usual from dawn to midnight. I began to hate this ball, and the stupid prince who was the cause of all my extra duties. Who was he to simply throw a few parties in the works to entertain the upper classes, leaving the servants and Shadows with so much more work? It was not fair. Why couldn't he find a bride without all of this fuss, like normal people?

This animosity towards the Royals reached its climax on the day of the first ball. I was in a foul mood already, because the abuse last night had been particularly. I shuddered as once again I felt his hands on me, the feeling of utter self-disgust as I crept from his chambers, trying to rescue my pride and failing.

I was up before dawn, taking in the waist of Tanya's dress, taking out the waist of Rosalie's. Making repairs to the shoe which the Mistress had broken just the day before, trying it on. Sewing pearls onto the ridiculously large headdresses, giving the car a last minute polish.

By lunchtime I was exhausted, and the Sisters were not even up yet. I scavenged a roast potato from the kitchen, pausing to let the fluffy white substance register with my taste buds. Delicious. Then I went to wake the girls. In truth, I could probably have been gentler, but they were going to the dance, and I was not. I felt nothing but bitter resentment for them. They woke up grumpy, and stayed so as I pulled, pushed, begged and forced them into their dresses. It took far longer than should have been necessary, and so I was running late as I pulled their hair up into a tight knot, and set the ridiculous wigs atop their heads. On went the headdresses too, making them look awfully tall. They would tower over the Prince, and they did not even have their heels on.

But they seemed pleased when I brought the mirror to show them, and so I shrugged it off. They leant heavily on me as they slipped—not altogether daintily—into the shoes. They'd be on the floor before they even got there. Rosalie tottered about in her heels, pronounced herself perfect, and wobbled downstairs. Tanya, who always followed her sister around, did exactly the same, down to the wobbly walk. Though that may have been because they wore the same stupid shoes.

By the time they were all finally ready, including the Mistress and Master, and the younger children were put to bed, they were running late. Hastily I opened the door of the long, shiny black car and helped them inside, hoping that they would not notice the faint pink patch where the wine had been. Thankfully, they did not.

And then they were off, horn tooting as they waved mockingly from the window at me. I was left standing there, in the middle of the courtyard, utterly alone.

Tonight was one of my rare nights off. Hardly any of the Household Staff remained, choosing to visit the Tavern instead and drink the night away. I was almost alone in the house. And so I decided to have a little fun. Didn't I deserve it?

I made my way downstairs again, to Alice's bedroom. Though she was only fourteen years old, she was the Daughter closest to my own size; most of the children were exceedingly tall. And she still owned beautiful clothes. Not to mention that she was the kindest Sister, the one most likely to cover for me if I was found out. I made my way to her dressing room, creeping now. She was asleep in her bed, in the next room.

Or so I thought.

When I entered her dressing room, she was sat there, perched on top of the huge wardrobe, grinning down at me.

"Hello, Bella."

How did she know my name?

"Oh… I… was just coming here to… clean, Miss Alice…" Damn. Why did I have to be such a terrible liar?

Alice giggled quietly, winking at me as she jumped neatly from her seat.

"I know what you're here for Bella, and it's alright. You may borrow a dress."

I had clearly underestimated Alice Nomade's perceptiveness. "H-how did you know?"

She tapped the side of her nose secretively. "Ways and means, Isabella, ways and means. Now, if you're going to be in disguise, hadn't you better have a bath?

Our footsteps were silent as we crossed the hall to the bathroom. I was still in a state of shock, in all honesty. Alice ran a bath quickly, and went to find a dress for me as I scrubbed myself clean.

It felt like I was washing away years of blood, sweat and tears. Wonderful. When I was clean I towelled myself off with my own threadbare towel, wrapping myself in it, as Alice reappeared with a dress.

I remember the day Alice wore that dress, last summer. I had always admired it, though she had only worn it once, before shoving it back into her wardrobe. It was sapphire blue and silk, though of a simple design. My eyes widened as she handed it to me with a bright smile.

The material was so different from the chafing of my scratchy woollen dress. I felt clean for perhaps the first time in my life. I ran down the stairs, to the looking glass in the hall, and admired the girl in the mirror. It was not me, surely. Her skin looked healthy, glowing. The blue of the dress made her eyes bold and beautiful. The face itself, always so gaunt, now looked lovely, with her huge eyes and lips. There was nothing she could do about her hair, short as it was, but even that did not hinder her beauty. Instead it made her look more mysterious and different. Pulling on a cloak that Alice had also handed me, I turned to face her. Without thinking, I hugged her tightly, and we both smiled warmly as she let me go.

"Enjoy yourself, Bella."

It felt wonderful to be free. The wind pulled at the material of the dress, fanning it out for the world to admire. I kept to the sidewalks, not daring to glance up as I saw expensive skirts and shiny shoes pass by me. All headed for the Prince's ball, apparently. I was moving in the opposite direction away from the city, to my favourite place in the world.

I could not come here often, what with my busy schedule, so whenever I did come here, it was more special. It looked like it was completely deserted, and for that I was glad. As I moved along the path, I stopped to scoop up cheap flowers that grew here. It didn't matter, they were still beautiful. By the time I reached my destination, I had a veritable bunch. I pressed my nose to them, inhaling their sweet scent, before laying them down gently on the grass before the headstone.

"Hi, Mum."

This was the Shadows' graveyard.

There were very few graves here, though the population of Shadows in the City was huge. Many of them were disposed of be the families or died on the streets. Mother was lucky.

I studied the inscription upon the heavy stone carefully, for what must have been the thousandth time, and smiled thinly.

_Here lies the Shadow, Renee._

_Happier in death than life._

It was almost certainly true, that was the sad thing. I felt a tear well, and for once I let it fall. That was it, then. All of the tears I might have cried over the years and had not came out. I knelt, my arms wrapped around my torso. I would end up like my mother. I would be nobody. No-one would ever remember me, as no-one remembered her. I was alone on this earth, and soon I would be alone in death.

I was crying so much that I didn't hear the voice until it was right beside me. Arms wrapped around me, holding me to a muscled chest, but I was too distraught to care. I felt strangely comforted, in any case, by these strange arms that held me so tightly. It might have been minutes, or hours, or days, but eventually my sobs quietened. As my eyes gradually cleared of tears, I focussed on the figure before me. It was a man, and a handsome one at that. Tall, dark, strange bronze-ish hair, brilliantly green eyes. He was looking down at me, worried.

When he spoke, I nearly cried again. It was such a beautiful sound, like velvet; if velvet could ever be heard. "Sorry, miss, but are you alright? I didn't want to disturb you, but you looked so hopeless…I wasn't spying or anything, I was just walking. I needed some fresh air…"

He let the sentence trail off, and I ducked my head to hide the blush. Stepping out of his hold, I tried to stand upright, and raised my gaze to meet his eyes. I had been right, he was very tall.

"I'm Edward, by the way," he added, as an afterthought.

"Thank you, uh, Edward. I am perfectly alright now, thanks…"

I had to leave, before I glanced back at my mother's grave and burst into sobs once more. Turning, I tried to step away, but he caught my wrist, effectively halting me.

"Wait… sorry, but what is your name?"

I glanced back at him in confusion. No-one had ever asked me my name before. No-one had cared enough to ask.

"It's… um… Isabella. Bella."

The crooked smile that graced his face was rewarding. I felt myself smiling back involuntarily, a natural reaction.

"It was nice to meet you, Bella."

I smiled once more, before turning and walking away, quickly now. But he shouted again, making me turn around, "Wait! Will I ever see you again? Will you be at the Prince's ball tomorrow?"

I hesitated. Sneaking out again would be dangerous, and sneaking out to the place where I knew the Family would be was downright suicidal. But something made me smile and tell him, "Yes".

And I really did want to see him again, to know that he wasn't just an illusion, dreamed up by my imagination. Was I crazy? Yes, would be the short answer to that, particularly since the very people I was most scared of would be there. If they found out, I would be dead… but I found that I didn't even care.

This made him smile, "Save me a dance then, Lady Isabella?"

"Of course, Lord Edward," I replied with a chuckle. I felt closer to this man than I had to anyone, ever.

He smiled once, and let me leave. I made it all the way to the gate before looking back. I could still see the figure standing there, though the light was too dim to see his features. I had to hide my smile. One kind stranger had made me smile. I would be able to get through the next day, now.

When I finally reached the house again, all was silent. Though I had stayed out longer than I had thought, it was not late enough for the Family to be home, and I was grateful. I could rest easily, knowing that they would not disturb me in my attic until at least tomorrow. Pulling off the dress, and stepping back into my usual attire, I returned the borrowed dress to its rightful place, checking in on Alice to make sure that she was asleep, and then climbed back into my own bed.

I felt hope.


	4. Hope

**Lmao, this computer hates my British way of spelling certain words. It puts squiggly red lines under words that it doesn't like. Wait... wth?! It just told me that 'doesn't' is not a real word.**

***Kicks computer* Stupid machine...

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****S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

**Chapter 3

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_**Chapter 3: Hope**_

_–noun_

_1. The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best: to keep hoping__  
2. A particular instance of this feeling: the hope of winning.  
__3. Grounds for this feeling in a particular instance: There is hope of his recovery.__  
4. A person or thing in which expectations are centred: The medicine was her last hope.  
5. Something that is hoped for: Her forgiveness is my constant hope._

The next day was the same, but so different. With my meeting scheduled for tonight with the mysterious Edward, I could not help but feel buoyant, uplifted and above all… hopeful. It was strange that one man could affect me in such a way, even though what I was planning to do was crazy, stupid and crazy.

I was in a dream as I dressed the Sisters once more, in even more elaborate gowns than the previous day. They chattered nonsensically about the ball of the evening before. The only detail, however, that I remembered afterwards was the fact that the prince had disappeared, about half way through. Apparently, this fact had greatly upset the female population of the Upper Classes.

The story only made me hate the prince more. He had grown tired of his own ball, the ball that had me rushing around for twenty hours a day, and had left? Who exactly did he think he was, anyway?

I felt sure that the second night of the celebrations would be a real eye-opener.

They left, after what seemed like forever. I was both excited and terribly nervous, but I tried to forget about it. I went back to Alice's Chambers, choosing a different dress, one made of gold material, with her help. It was so beautiful, and I was glad to realise, after I'd taken my bath and slipped into the dress, that it fitted me like a second skin. I pulled on the old cloak and set off once more into the night. It was then that I realised I had no idea where exactly the Prince's palace was. I mean of course, I could see it—it could be seen from everywhere in the City—but the streets between me and it were a veritable maze. I had no way of knowing whether or not I would make it there.

Nevertheless, I kept moving. One foot in front of the other, just keep walking. At least it wasn't raining, though knowing my bad luck; the starry sky might cloud over at any moment. The streets were all the same. Rich, elaborate houses reached up on either side of the wide, paved road. They were intimidatingly large, I'd never realised before. I marvelled at them as walked quickly, aware that I no longer looked like a Shadow, and would therefore not be treated with the same indifference. I was fairly confident, however, that I would be able to run if anything did happen…

Luckily, nothing did. Perhaps I still looked as plain as I had when I was a Shadow… but no, surely that was not it. Maybe my attire warned off thieves and murderers. Maybe I was seen as a member of an important Family, high enough up to be intimidating to these men of the City. Whatever the reason, I found myself arriving at the Palace unscathed, though cold.

The entrance to the grand building was far larger than it looked from my attic window. I had never before been close enough to grasp the sheer size and scale of the thing. It was magnificent. Beautiful, too. It was made of marble, the white glow making it stand out from everything around it. There were simply hundreds of windows, each giving a glimpse into this high-powered, expensive lifestyle. Huge Chandeliers were visible, and in my mind, I wondered how long it took to clean those things. But, I reminded myself, that was the Shadow part of me. I was a Guest, now, and should be far more occupied by the cream of society than how long it took the Servants and Shadows to clean those stupid things.

Shaking my head at my own apparent stupidity, I started up the stairs, still awestruck by my surroundings. The Steward at the top of the stairs nodded courteously, and I smiled in return, bemused by this new attitude to me. It was truly amazing what a simple dress could do.

I entered the room, immediately rendered aghast by the sheer beauty of the place. The inside was marble too, though strangely warm. The Chandeliers she had spied through the window looked even more magnificent close up, illuminating the room with their soft glow. Couples whirled across the floor elegantly, beautiful skirts swirling wildly. I could not help but smile widely at the sight,

And then I saw the one couple I was hoping to avoid, and had to duck behind a pillar, breathing heavily. The Master and Mistress. They looked uncomfortable as they danced. Luckily, it did not seem like I had been spotted. But I had to keep away anyway.

I made my way quickly through an elaborate archway, into a second room. This was just as wonderful as the first, though smaller. A golden throne stood at one end, but I could not see its occupant because of the throngs of women surrounding the chair. A chair that could have bought the freedom of every Shadow in the City.

All at once, I felt a rush of hatred for this man. He lived off of the backs of others, reaping the rewards of his subjects' back-breaking labour. He lived here in comfort and luxury while many in the City did not even have a roof over their heads for the majority of the year. How was that fair? How was that still allowed?

Lost in my angry haze, I acted without thinking. I stormed through the crowds surrounding the Royal Family member, ignoring women's dramatic shrieks. I had barely touched them.

I was only about half way through the crowd when I caught my first glimpse of Royalty. He was male, with strange bronze hair… though I could not see his face, obscured as it was by the modern-day equivalent of screaming fan-girls. Obviously, nowadays, they had more self-control. Just.

I kept moving, wondering now if I was being rash. But I was still too focussed on venting my anger, and this Prince, who was responsible for many of my troubles, seemed like an ideal target. _I hate him. I hate him._

I forced my way to the front.

And then I froze.

Stunningly green eyes turned to meet my own gaze. I had only seen eyes that green once before previously, and it had been only last night.

"No…"

Not him. No, it couldn't be. Not Edward. Desperately, I tried to make my mind remember what the Prince's name was. I had only been told once before. Edward...

And it was undeniable. There he sat on that huge chair, a gold circlet on his head. Come to think of it, I could not remember what he had worn last night; I had been rather preoccupied. Though the arms that had wrapped around me had been made of expensive material.

_No…_

He couldn't be. This man I had professed to hate so much. I felt the last vestiges of my anger slip away, neutralised by his calming gaze.

As he recognised me, his face broke into that crooked grin I'd seen last night… and my fears were confirmed. Edward. Kind, caring, shoulder-that I'd-cried-on Edward… He was the Prince.

As my mind worked out these baffling new ideas, he rose from his chair, stepping down to meet me. Hope turned to jealousy on the women's faces as, one by one, he passed by them.

He came to a halt just in front of me. Taking my right hand, which hung limply by my side, he raised it and pressed it to his lips, eyes searching mine for some kind of acceptance.

"Lady Isabella. How wonderful to meet you again."

I tried a smile, for the sake of those around me, but it came out all wrong. Twisted, more like a grimace. Belatedly, I bobbed an awkward curtsey, lowering my gaze to the tips of his shiny black boots. "And you, Your Highness."

I looked up just in time to see the look of fleeting annoyance flash across his face. Did he not like the honorific, then? I resolved to use it as much as possible.

"Would you care to dance, my lady?" The twinkle had returned to his eye as I glared at him, muttering profanities so quietly that he could not possibly have heard them, and nodded an acceptance.

Keeping hold of my hand, he led me out into the midst of the gracefully twirling couples. I turned to face him, and he took my waist in one hand, keeping hold of the other as I laid my free hand on his shoulder. I must have looked murderously angry, for he chuckled.

"Smile, Bella. I'm not that bad a dancer."

But I was too angry to retaliate, or even to simply laugh at his stupidity. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I hissed the words through clenched teeth, trying to smile for the crowds that now watched us, alone on the dance floor.

"I thought you had guessed… apparently I was wrong."

"Apparently you were."

Both of us were silent for a moment. He looked confused about something, and opened his mouth to speak once more. "How is it that I have never come across you before, Lady Bella? Surely I would remember…"

I stayed silent as we twirled across the room, all eyes on us. His simple question had come so close to a complete confession. I decided that it was not safe to speak, and so I did not.

"Don't be coy, Isabella"

I raised an eyebrow at him, and answered drily, "I do not think I have ever been coy in my life, Your Highness. I am a new arrival in this City, and in your Court."

It wasn't a complete lie, and that would have to do.

"May I ask, then, what you were doing in the Shadows' graveyard?"

"No, you may not."

I answered sharply, too quickly. He seemed to realise that this was a sore subject, and let it go diplomatically.

The silence stretched awkwardly as the music finished, at last. I gave him one last appraising glance, and turned away. But he caught my wrist again, like he had the night before. I turned reluctantly back to face him.

"What do you want with me?"

"I want to see you again, Bella."

I scowled at him ,"Why?"

He grinned again, "Because you intrigue me. Meet me at midnight in the Graveyard… please."

"Some of us have other lives, you know. You cannot expect me to merely drop everything for the sake of a Prince."

The twinkle returned to his eyes as he took in the words, and my absolutely serious delivery. Suddenly, without any warning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine swiftly, before releasing me. A murmur went up, through the crowds watching. I felt like a freak show.

"What about for the sake of a Prince's kiss?"

I could not help myself. I slapped him. I loaded my palm with the hatred of so many years of servitude, all of the menial tasks I had endured, the pain I went through almost every night. The hundreds, thousands of times I'd been raped without mercy. The winters; alone in the cold and the snow. The pain of my mother's death. The countless times I'd reached the very brink of death. I put everything I had into that blow.

As I turned away from him, I felt the tears start to well, and I broke into a run. I did not want to be left behind when the Crowd got over their shock. Wordlessly, silently, the crowds parted to let me through. My sobs echoed through the hall, magnified by the excellent acoustics. They stared after me, all of them. I felt numerous gazes at my back, but for once I did not care.

I just had to get out.

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**Soo... Eddie's true identity has been revealed... dun dun DUUUUN!!! **

**Damn, apparently I have consumed too much HC. I love Starbucks.  
**


	5. Aftermath

**Hmm, you guys are right... Edward is a prat, huh? Never mind. I guess he redeems himself in this chapter. Hope you enjoy this, tbh. Reviews are loved!

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**S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

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****Chapter 4: Aftermath**

_Aftermath:_

_1. Something that results or follows from an event, esp. one of a disastrous or unfortunate nature; consequence: the aftermath of war; the aftermath of the flood._

I ran the whole way back to the Family's house, sobbing desperately. I hated him, hated him even more than I had before. Chances were, I'd been recognised. When I reached the house again, I would be punished, probably kicked out, possibly killed. The Human Rights for Shadows were not the same as they were for the Frees.

I ran straight upstairs, not bothering to change from the dress. Grabbing an old bag of Alice's on the way past, I pulled it after me upstairs, throwing in all of my worldly possessions as I sobbed. I was frantic, now. How long would it be before the household woke, or even the Master and Mistress returned?

The punishment for running away was severe; but the punishment for impersonating a noble was worse. I would take the easier option. I slipped out of the gold dress, stepping back into my old woollen one, though I pushed the ball gown into my bag. Pulling on my old, sturdy boots, I wrapped the cloak around me and pulled up my hood, in a feeble attempt to hide my identity, at least long enough that I could escape.

I ran back down the stairs, bag slung over my shoulder, and for once I was glad of the years of labour I had endured. They made me strong now as I ran with the heavy load.

But I only made it to the foot of the stairs before a loud knocking sounded on the main door. It was across the hall; I could open it, and still manage to get away… it wasn't the Family, because they would have no qualms about barging through the door.

No, this had to be someone else.

But who?

I hesitated. Answering the door, as was my duty, could be the difference between me escaping and being caught. And the evidence on my person was damning; the bag, the dress, the travelling cloak… if I were caught now, I'd have no way out.

But years of servitude had worn off in more ways than one. I could hardly help myself as the calm and collected Shadow side of my mind took over, laying the bag down neatly and straightening the ugly cap, before opening the door, eyes fixed on the floor.

I shouldn't have looked up.

But I did anyway.

_He _was stood there, perfect as ever. His bronze hair was wet from the rain—was it raining? He was soaked. I couldn't help but stare, and apparently he had the same problem.

He spoke first, breaking the silence.

"Bella?"

I clenched my jaw defiantly, "How can I help you, Your Majesty?"

"Bella… why didn't you… I mean… you should have…"

"What can I help you with, Majesty?"

"Isabella… listen to me. I was out of line… I apologise. Please, talk to me…"

"I am afraid I cannot, Your Majesty. That is not something I am allowed to do."

"But you want to?" Was it me, or did he sound…hopeful? My cheeks burned red from shame at being seen like this. But why? Why did I care? Why was I so preoccupied by what he thought of me?

"I am not allowed to," I repeated obstinately, trying to convince myself desperately that I _did not _want to.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bells. That doesn't matter now."

I stayed silent.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

More silence. It was becoming awkward.

"Bella, please…" A cool hand appeared in my line of vision, tilting my chin gently up so that I would look at him. I slapped his had away, though not particularly roughly.

"Please, talk to me… I could have helped you…"

"You want to know _why? _Maybe because I'm a Shadow. You're a Prince. It's wrong… it's just not right. You rule the land, and I clean the house. That's how it goes… that's how it always goes…" The tears were beginning to spill once more, and he noticed, raising a hand to my cheek to brush them away. But he was more tentative this time, wary of a stinging palm.

He was not disappointed.

"Leave me alone! Just… leave. Go back to your ball; to your fancy palace… don't come back. You don't belong here."

His expression was twisted between anguish and obstinacy. He seemed confused about something though, at the same time.

"Bella, I…"

"Go home."

"Bella, I lov—"

I slammed the door in his face.

It wasn't until later, much later, as I walked swiftly along the streets, having escaped through the Servants' entrance, that I really thought about what I'd done.

Had I slammed the door in his face? Did I really not want to hear the words he'd been going to utter?

Of course I did.

The knowledge shocked me, but I knew instinctively that it was the truth. I wanted to hear him tell me that he loved me… I wanted to hear his voice wrap around my name, as it had before.

But that was insanity… I'd only met him the night before, though it seemed like much longer ago.

I sat on the docks as I watched the sun rise over the water. It was beautiful, despite the smog of the city. The light painted beautiful colours across the otherwise dull surface of the water. I'd planned to escape; to leave on the first boat of the City. I'd been saving my whole life, and I had enough coppers now to buy a fare across. I'd be free. I'd no longer have to live under a tyrant. I'd never be abused again, and I'd never have to walk… I'd be free to do whatever I wanted. It was all sorted. I'd already paid the Captain, and I was leaving in a few hours time. I was leaving forever. I'd be free to choose my own destiny.

But there was something I had to do, first.

Sighing, I stood quickly, stretching muscles that ached.

I walked quickly, along the familiar path. I walked the path that led out of the City, away from the houses and buildings to the more serene woodlands. I loved it here.

Though I'd come to visit my mother only last night, I had to come and say goodbye.

Her grave was bathed in rare sunlight, and the sight made me smile. She would have loved it. I silently hoped that she was happy and watching over me, wherever she was. The flowers I'd laid here before were still fresh, and one of my fingertips brushed across a white petal. It was so fragile, so perfect.

And then a hand caught mine.

I knew the hand, of course. There was only one pair of hands that fit as perfectly around mine as these did.

"What do you want, Edward?"

I heard a wistful chuckle from behind me, and turned to face him. The Prince himself. I bowed mockingly; I was out of the City. His rules did not apply here.

"Was there something you wanted?"

"You know there is, Bella."

"I believe this conversation already reached its point."

"I'm not sure it did…"

I tried to change the subject, not wanting to go anywhere near this one. "You never did answer one of my questions."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I wanted to know why you were here last night and not at your Ball."

He hesitated, clearly thinking something through. "If I tell you, will you trust me?"

"Perhaps." I was promising nothing.

"Very well."

He began his story, in a voice that started off fairly normal. "My mother. She… she was not of noble blood. My father," his expression twisted at the word, "Was fonder than was necessary of his Servants and Shadows. I am ashamed to say that he used them."

I knew where this was going. It was all too obvious. "They entertained him."

He smiled grimly at the utter disgust and pain in my voice, "Yes."

I felt sick, utterly sick. To think that the old _King _had raped his servants. It… it disgusted me. Mostly because I could relate entirely to the poor girls. I knew exactly what they went through, because I had been through it myself.

"My… my mother was one of them."

Wow. I hadn't seen that one coming.

"A Shadow. My father's personal girl, to be precise. He took a liking to her, and naturally, she had to oblige him.

"She was nearly killed when he found out of her pregnancy. But she pleaded and begged and eventually, my father let her keep the child."

"But the child was you…" My own voice matched his whisper.

"Yes."

"What happened to her?" I already knew, though.

"He killed her after I was born."

"I'm… sorry."

"She's buried here. I come here to visit her often." He tried a smile, though it ended up as more of a grimace. "I never knew her, but I miss her…"

"Of course you do. She was your mother…"

We sat in silence together for a while. Talking seemed unnecessary, for now.

He only broke the silence after a long time, "I want to help you, Bella. Please. Let me help you. You could be Queen… you could help others, others like you… I want to abolish Slavery… but I need your help. I… I love you, Bella… I don't want to do this without you."

I must have looked hesitant, because he continued.

"Please. Please," he whispered. He sounded desperate, now. "Please don't be afraid. I want to do this. I won't hurt you…"

I choked at that; I could not help myself. How could he promise me that? I had been hurt so much in my life, hurt by so many people. How could I ever trust him? How did I know that he would not use me, just as his Father used his Mother?

"No…" I had to bite my lip sharply to stop the tears that were pooling in my eyes from falling. "Don't promise me anything."

"What do you have against promises?"

"You can't keep a promise like that… please, don't try."

"I have to. Can't you see that I…I care about you? Seeing you hurt would be… very hard. Intolerable. Please, just let me… I can't ever hurt you, Bells…" He trailed off.

"I can't… I'm sorry."

He looked pained, incredibly so.

Detaching myself from his protective grip on my waist, I stepped away. I spoke again, quietly, in an attempt to hide the pain in my voice. "Sorry, Edward."

He called my name, but I kept moving. And then his hand was around my wrist again, and he pulled me to him. His lips pressed against mine for the first time, and it suddenly all made sense.

The offer was so tempting. He had hit me right at my weak point; the reason I'd be most likely to give in. And, as I thought about it, I realised that perhaps marrying him would not be so bad. I could grow to love him. In time. And by the way my heart was back flipping in my chest after his confession; my answer became heartbreakingly clear, as he broke away from me.

"Yes."

It was a whisper, but he heard it; his anguished face became hopeful, and then joyful, as a dozen emotions flashed across his face. I could not help but smile as he pulled me to him. This was it. This was my happily ever after, my forever. I could do this. It was unorthodox, but I did not mind… because it was perfect.

"**Hey, love is the last thing that I thought I would have found…"**


	6. Epilogue

**I did say that there'd be an epilogue... enjoy!**

**S H A D O W  
A Twilight FanFiction  
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen**

**Epilogue

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When Prince Edward married the Shadow, Isabella, the City went into uproar. No-one could believe that a mere slave girl had caught their King's attention. It gave oppressed men and women everywhere hope. If she was freed, then… couldn't they be, too?

Under the new King's rule, the City was returned to its former glory. Slavery, and Shadowism were abolished, and those who had been freed were rehabilitated in safer environments, and given jobs that they were actually paid for.

The Queen was often seen out on the streets, helping the homeless, working as a teacher. It was a common sight to see her dressed like a Free, saving lives. She and her husband fell very much in love, and together, they saved the City. The time of the Shadows had gone, and the light ruled.

James and Victoria Nomade, Queen Isabella's old Master and Mistress, were put to work in the Palace, as were their two oldest daughters. They were not Shadows, though—King Edward was not so cruel. Alice Nomade, in return for her help, was given a position in the Royal Wardrobe, though, more often than not, her duties involved chasing the Queen and her many children, and forcing them into the clothes they were supposed to wear. Alice and Bella became great friends, bound by kindness.

And thus, in friendship and love, those who deserved to lived happily ever after.

_FIN._


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